


Sherlock has to pee

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Embarrassment, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Several scenarios in which Sherlock has to pee.





	1. New Beginnings

_Date: August 5, 2013_

 

**My new Flatmate!**

 

Last week, I finished my master’s thesis in Science and passed(big surprise). I am now on a month-long well-earned vacation. Or, what I expected to be a vacation. It has not turned out QUITE that way.

 

It started when I moved out of my flat. It was too small, too much light, sometimes too dark, too noisy and too quiet.

 

Fortunately, I quickly came across an ad for a rather perfect flat in Baker Street. The landlady’s a lovely old spinster, Mrs Hudson, and I’m sharing it with another intellectual. But that’s not the best part. Besides the violin, and how quiet he is, the best part is how eccentric he is. Those who know me, would as I have, see this as a perfect pair. And we are, in more than one sense..in the sense that I also get to solve mysteries for Scotland Yard, as an assistant consulting detective, AKA Sherlock’s assistant. But I know he sees me as his friend. Everything’s hunky dory so far.

 

Signed, Celina Parker, Master of Science.

 

**August 5th, 7:30 PM**

 

Sherlock and I were sitting in the living room, watching Fawlty Towers and not really paying attention, drinking our evening tea. Sherlock put down his cup, and two minutes later, crossed his legs. I looked over at him, and narrowed my eyes. Sherlock never crosses his legs. Once, his brother, Mycroft made him “it’s good form, Sherlock”, and he said it gave him a cramp. He may have been slightly exaggerating, but still. The explanation was obvious.

 

“You need the loo?” I asked.

 

“Mrm,” was his mumbling response, which meant “Yes/No why does it matter?”, the standard for when asked an annoying question, with a potentially “incriminating” answer.

 

“It’s perfectly natural to need to pee, you know,” I reminded him.

 

“I know,” he scoffed at me, turning his attention away from his bladder and onto the show on the telly.

 

“So why won’t you go?” I asked.

 

“Couch is too comfortable. I just consumed the tea, bladder response is too early,” he explained.

 

I responded like a scientist.

 

“Well, the material in the cushion, re-fluffs itself as a result of you getting up. And the fact that you need a wee right after having tea makes sense. It’s activating your already full bladder. It’s not just the tea you need to get rid of”, I explained.

 

Sherlock nodded, but stayed sitting. I, however, had had enough of him abusing his bladder irrationally. Luckily, I am naturally very strong, and has maintained it the many times Sherlock has come from the station on a day I’ve been home, and collapsed, so I’ve had to catch his fall. Pulling up my sleeves, I stood up, went in front of him, and lifted him out of the couch, put my hand around his waist and dragged him to the toilet.

 

“In. Your bladder will thank you after,” I commanded nicely. He went in and wee’d to audible relief.

 

I sighed and shook my head at him upon his return.

 

“Repeat that twice more, and I’m taking you to the doctor,” I warned. He stuck his tongue at me, and we kept watching.


	2. Secrets of the Holmes Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't like public bathrooms. His equally clever brother, helps him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some Danish phrases. Use Google Translate on this page if necessary.

Sherlock, Lestrade and Mycroft were on the way from Scotland Yard, to a secret facility owned by MI6. It was at this point that Sherlock realized that he hadn’t gone to the loo before leaving the station. He squirmed in his seat. Lestrade noticed. 

  
“You alright, Sherlock?” he asked. 

  
Sherlock crossed his legs, feigning innocence. 

 

“Just peachy,” he remarked sarcastically. 

 

As soon as Lestrade had pointed it out, Mycroft turned to his brother. He identified his brother’s problem right away. He was quite familiar with Sherlock’s bathroom shyness from their childhood. 

 

“ _ Skal vi stoppe ved en bensinstation? _ ” he asked his brother gently, in Danish. 

 

“ _Nei, det går aldrig, det ved du godt_ ,” Sherlock replied firmly. 

 

“What are you chaps talking about?” Lestrade asked, confused.    
  
“Nothing that concerns you, Inspector,” Mycroft answered, shutting him up. 

 

“ _ Du har holdt dig væk fra dem lenge nok, Sherlock _ ” Mycroft tried to convince his brother. 

  
“ _ Prøv i hvert fald _ ,” he suggested. Sherlock nodded, and Mycroft directed the driver in French. Noticing the change of direction, Mycroft explained to Lestrade that he needed to stretch his legs, which Sherlock agreed to as well. 

 

The Holmes brothers stepped out of the car and walked into the gas station. 

Checking that it was empty, Mycroft signalled to his brother that he would have privacy. Sherlock walked in, locking the door behind him. He went over to the toilet, unzipped and relaxed his urethra. Nothing happened. 

  
He buttoned up his trousers, zip still down and opened the door to his brother. 

  
“I can’t,” he said, disappointed.

  
“Let’s try again. I’ll try pushing your ‘sweet spot’, “ Mycroft suggested. Nodding, Sherlock went back to his position in front of the toilet, followed by his brother. Mycroft pressed lightly right above Sherlock’s penis, anatomically located, at the bottom of the bladder. Slowly, a steady stream of pee shot out of Sherlock. As urine continued to flow out of him, Sherlock sighed in relief. He finished, kindly batted Mycroft's hand away, zipped up and washed his hands. “Thanks, My,” he thanked affectionately. 

  
“You’re welcome Sherley” Mycroft replied, using their pet names for each other. 

  
“Needed more than stretch your legs, did you, Holmes?” Lestrade teased, with a chuckle. Sherlock simply nodded. 

  
“So, as far as I can tell, you’re not usually able to go in public loos, so your brother helped you. Weird, but sweet. What was that language you were speaking before?” he asked.    
  


“Danish,” Mycroft explained. Secretly texting John about the incident, Lestrade nodded and dropped the subject.


	3. Police Assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade decides to help his bladder-shy consultant.

The incident in the car sparked some curiosity for DI Lestrade. He had worked with Sherlock for a couple of years now, and yet, didn’t know about his bathroom shyness. It made him wonder if he’d been secretly uncomfortable in his presence, or if it was only outside Scotland Yard. He thought back. His conclusion suggested the bathrooms at the station were fine for him, though he did make a connection between some moments at crime scenes where he had been wriggly, which at the time was chalked up to the cold, the grisly circumstances, or something going with him and John. He quickly ruled out some of these. So yes, Sherlock had been “inconveniently circumstanced” on the job. Knowing Sherlock’s eccentricity/Aspergers?, Lestrade wanted to help. 

 

  * PWC offices, crime scene, 10:30 AM



 

Lestrade was introducing the victim, John Doe, 42-year-old banker, when he noticed Sherlock was wriggling slightly. 

  
“You alright, Holmes?” he asked subtly. 

 

“Yes, of course. John Doe, 42, Banker. Any enemies?” 

 

Lestrade continued, making note that the wriggling had been replaced by putting the tips of his shoes together, almost on top of each other. It was confirmation. Sherlock usually always had his feet apart, tidy and straight. 

 

As they were walking to the elevator to talk to the vic’s colleagues, Greg wondered how to suggest the loo to the detective. 

 

He decided on a little white lie(maybe). 

 

“You know, I heard they just renovated this floor. Fixed the automatic door, toilet facilities, the works,” he mentioned, attemptively casually. Sherlock raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

 

“Who told you that?” 

 

“One of the receptionists” he lied. 

 

“Well, she’s a bit thick, then. The door mechanism dates 2013, a year ago now. And the piece of loo paper under the door, suggests the toilets get cleaned rarely, even if they’re ’renovated’,” Sherlock corrected, with scepticism. 

 

This concerned Lestrade. He knew he couldn’t get Sherlock to the loo by faking a need himself, as antisocial as Sherlock was, he’d never pee with Lestrade in the room,  **ever** . But Lestrade didn’t want him to remain uncomfortable. 

 

He pushed both buttons in the elevator, covering the buttons with his hands, trying to hide doing it on purpose. 

 

“Whoops,” he remarked, since pressing both buttons meant the buttons needed to be reset, sending no elevator to their floor. 

 

“What are you doing, Greg?” Sherlock asked. 

  
“Pushed the wrong button,” he lied. 

 

“No, you didn't. You did that on purpose, I saw your fingers.” Sherlock said, confronting Lestrade. 

 

“And now you’ve got 5 minutes,” Lestrade explained, defending himself. 

 

“To do what?” Sherlock asked, mildly irritated. 

 

“Go to the loo,” Lestrade suggested. 

 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock remarked firmly, turning to face the elevator. He crossed his legs

 

“Then why’d you cross your legs?” Lestrade questioned with a smirk. 

 

Sherlock gave a look of silent admittance, and nodded.

 

“Not happening,” Sherlock stated.

 

“Come on, is it really worth it?” Lestrade asked, nudging him. 

 

“They’re disgusting,” Sherlock mentioned. 

 

“You’ll say the same about your trousers, in ‘bout an hour,” Lestrade joked, tugging on Sherlock's collar, and pointing at the toilet. 

 

Sherlock blushed, and batted Greg’s hand off his jacket. 

  
“Don’t touch my jacket,” he requested, walking towards the toilet. 

 

“Never again, Holmes,” Lestrade quietly promised, smiling as he heard the door close behind Sherlock.

Lestrade+Sherlock’s bladder-1, Stubborn Sherlock-0.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters will be based on your prompts! Have a setting you want to see? write it in the comments! Canon characters only, unless related to Sherlock.


	4. Grabbing Violins and Crotches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door to Sherlock's toilet won't open. But he doesn't want to admit his need to John. But John is a Doctor. Crotch grabbing ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge Thanks to sherlock_and_tea for the suggestion!

Sherlock was abruptly woken that morning from his bladder throbbing. He scoffed at biology, making have to pee both before  _ and _ after sleep. Keeping his thighs clenched together, the detective slowly stood from his bed, fists clenched to keep him from doing such  _ ridiculous _ things as  **grabbing his crotch** . Sherlock ran as fast as he could to the flat’s toilet, only to find the door locked. He crossed his legs and jiggled on the spot, knocking on the door, calling desperately out to John to “hurry the hell up for god’s sake! I’m bursting!”

 

John, having just woken up, walked out of his room to find his currently, squirmy flatmate, in front of the toilet door. 

 

“Sherlock? What are doing banging on the door? There’s no one in there,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Sherlock turned around, and seeing his flatmate, blushed lightly, straightening up tensely, to hide his urgent need to urinate.

 

“There must be. The door’s locked,” he explained nervously.

 

“Let me see,”John remarked, walking over to the door, and looking in through the keyhole. 

 

“Yep. No one in there,” John confirmed, as he tried to open the door for his clearly seconds-from-wetting-himself friend. The door, again, didn’t open. 

 

“Something’s wrong with the lock,” Sherlock stated with a sigh.

 

John nodded in agreement. Then, to his surprise, Sherlock walked over to his violin, playing random melodic music on it, whilst “dancing” on the spot.    
  
‘ _ Unbelievable. He’s playing “pee-pee dance” on his violin,’  _ John thought himself in a amused astonishment. He shook his head incredulously as he advised Sherlock: 

 

“You know, if you go downstairs, Mrs Hudson’s got a loo you can use,”

 

“Why would I need that?” Sherlock asked sarcastically, still pretending. 

 

“Oh I dunno, because your still dancing, even though you’ve stopped playing the violin,” John countered, kindly, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I’m listening inside my head,” Sherlock stated, quickly grabbing his violin to resume playing. John equally quickly, grabbed it out of his hand, putting on the mantle, then stood in front of it, arms crossed ready to lecture Sherlock on his bathroom shyness. 

  
“Sherlock, I’m a Doctor, you don’t think I know all the signs that someone needs to urinate?” he began, presenting his impending scrutiny. 

  
“Firstly, your tapping your feet, and shaking your legs. Bladder retention requires slightly moving the pelvic floor.” John pointed out. Sherlock rebutted by taking a seat in his lounge chair. 

 

“And now, your bouncing your crossed legs. Crossing legs helps tighten the urethral sphincter,” John continued, medically. 

 

“Blood flow,” Sherlock stated quickly, as way of explanation for his current swaying from side to side, while standing up.

 

“Blood doesn’t move vertically in the veins,” John countered. Before Sherlock could come up with another excuse, his bladder spasmed intensely. He immediately reacted by bending over, crossing his legs, and grabbing his crotch. 

 

“And now, you’re applying as much pressure to your sphincter as possible, by bending over, crossing your legs,  _ and  _ grabbing your crotch. Still sure you don’t need the loo?” John asked accusingly, imploring the detective to admit it. 

  
“Shut up John! Yes, fine, of course I need the loo! There’s only one reason to grab your crotch,” Sherlock spat back in a panic. 

  
“Not only do I need it, I’m bursting, but I can’t move,” Sherlock stated. 

 

Smiling at his friends admission of natural need to pee, John walked over to Sherlock, stroking his shoulder encouragingly. 

 

“Yes, you can. Just uncross your legs, and put an extra hand down there,” he suggested helpfully. Sherlock followed it successfully. 

 

“Now, you just need to get down to Mrs Hudson’s door as quick as you can. I’m with you the whole way,” John explained, assuring him. Sherlock nodded, and started power-walking out of the flat, John right next to him, opening the door for him. With some intermittent dancing on the stairs, the two eventually made it to Mrs Hudson’s doorstep. John knocked on the door. 

 

“Oh hello, you two. How can help you..oh, Sherlock, do you need to use my loo?” Mrs Hudson greeted, and asked, upon seeing Sherlocks position, both hands in his crotch, legs wiggling wildly. 

 

“Yes, really badly. Our toilet door’s got a faulty lock. Do you mind?” John asked, explaining for his patient/flatmate.

 

“Not at all, it’s right through there. Go on Sherlock, it’s alright you’ll make it,” she answered letting them both through, guiding Sherlock hastily to her loo, encouraging him all the way. Sherlock mumbled a “thank you, Martha”, as he sprinted to the loo, slamming the door behind him. He threw down his pj’s and pants, aimed his thing at the bowl, and let go. Loud pee noises could be heard from inside. Mrs Hudson and Watson exchanged looks of mutual sympathy. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed in immense relief, as he peed thoroughly for several minutes. Being certain that he was finished, he pulled his trousers back up, flushed and washed his hands. He smiled and nodded at the two people waiting outside, before walking quickly up to his flat, head held up high as a gesture of preserved pride. 

 

“You held it longer than that, you would’ve wet yourself,” John reminded Sherlock, lightly lecturing him as he entered the flat.

 

“I was fine,” Sherlock stated, not caring in the slightest.

 

“Well, your bladder health won’t be if you keep this up. I’m a Doctor. You have no reason to be ashamed of needing to pee. Everyone needs the loo. You can’t put your pride over science. It’s..irrational,” John argued strictly. The word “irrational” convinced Sherlock. 

  
“I can’t help it. It’s been this way since childhood,” Sherlock explained. 

 

“Well, can you at least start by not hiding from me, or Mrs Hudson?” John asked. 

  
“Sure. I trust you, and Mrs Hudson’s lovely. Fine. When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go,” Sherlock answered, humorously, and confidently, in agreement. 

 

“That’s right!” John agreed, shaking Sherlock’s hand to “seal the deal” on Sherlock publicizing his voiding. They had an otherwise nice morning, especially after the door got fixed and Sherlock could (without awkward hesitation) run to the toilet and evacuate the three cups of tea he had drank, between breakfast and lunch. The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters will be based on your prompts! Have a setting you want to see? write it in the comments! Canon characters only, unless related to Sherlock.


	5. A Nice Wee, and a nice woman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nice wee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by JaneSylvian: Sherlock has an accident in public. 
> 
> Fun fact: the woman in this story is a 19-year old girl named Celina(NOT to be confused with the one in chapter 1!)

Sherlock hated shopping. It was so dull. People leading to sensory overload, scenery not contributing to his “mind palace” in the slightest, uncomfortable pushing and shoving. Alas, he had agreed to help John buy a Christmas gift for Mary. They were walking to the third store on Piccadilly, when Sherlock felt himself need the loo. ‘ Bollocks, I forgot about that when we left!’  Sherlock thought, annoyed with himself. He looked around the store for guest toilets. No signs. He realized he needed to ask John for assistance. They were in a more public area than their flat, but nevertheless, he had learned his lesson the other day, with the door.

 

“John. I need the..” he stated, unable to finish the sentence.

 

“Need the what?” John asked.

 

“ _ The loo _ ” Sherlock whispered.

 

“Can’t you see a sign to where it is?” John asked, looking around.

  
“No,” he answered, as John noticed it, as well.

 

“Can you wait till we get home?” John asked Sherlock, politely.

 

“ _Depends_.  How much longer are you going to look?” he asked.

 

“40 minutes,” John guessed.

 

“That would give me a urinary tract infection,” Sherlock stated, scientifically.

 

“Alright, let’s go find one outside,” John announced.

 

They walked out of the store and looked around. There were no public toilets.

 

They ran up the street, trying to find a Starbucks. The one that used to be on the corner, had vanished. Sherlock began hopping in the spot impatiently. John finds an alley and guides Sherlock into it.

 

“Look, why don’t you just go here in this alley, I won’t look,” John suggested.

 

Seeing the limited options, Sherlock nodded, and signalled for John to turn around. He found a good spot on the wall to aim at, and unzipped. Only, his zipper wouldn’t budge.

 

“ John! My zip won’t open!” He called out in a panic.

 

John tried “ripping” it down. It did nothing. It appeared truly broken, and at the same time indestructible. Sherlock crossed his legs, and jiggled as his need increased.

 

“Uncross your legs, let’s get back to the flat, you can go there,” John suggested.

 

Nodding, Sherlock slowly uncrossed, but a seconds spurt into his trousers stopped him.

 

“I can’t move,” he stated anxiously.

 

“Yes, you can, just give it a minute, I’ll get us a cab,” John reassured him, walking out to the edge of the sidewalk. That same moment, a big truck came flying through the street, and John was walking close enough to be struck by it. Seeing his friend in danger, Sherlock screamed “Careful, John!”, before uncrossing his legs and running to him, pulling his friend back within the nick of time. 

 

“You were almost hit by that truck,” Sherlock explained, relieved, unaware of his bladder

 

At the same time, however, his legs were uncrossed, and this in combination with his running, which requires loose sphincter muscles, and hence,  _preferably_ an empty bladder.. caused his bladder to fully release its contents. 

 

“Uh oh,” Sherlock remarked in slight surprise, as he noticed himself start peeing.

 

He instantly tried to stop the flow, but his muscles were  _locked_ in _full_ _stream_ **urination**.

 

“Don’t fight it, your muscles are locked, just let it go,” John reassured him, reminding him of the fact he already knew. Smiling with the intent of enjoying this, as a matter of fact, public, pee, Sherlock closed his eyes and let the pee go freely into his trousers. He sighed in relief.

 

“Feels good?”  Doctor Watson asked him, satisfied with the result, from a medical standpoint. Sherlock nodded. Once the last few drops were out, Sherlock looked at himself. “Well, I went the loo. It just happens to be on myself,” Sherlock remarked, laughing at himself. 

 

Then he noticed where he was, and blushed thoroughly, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. Just as John was about to reassure him, a young woman came walking down the street, and spotted the wet detective. She approached him kindly. 

 

“Oh. Well, that’s okay, it happens. When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go. Good job,” the woman, strangely, reassured him, patting his back, before walking on, not fazed by Sherlock’s obviously peed-in trousers, in the slightest. 

 

“Good. I had a nice wee, mission accomplished. Back to the flat then?” Sherlock asked casually, relieved due to the _relieving_   circumstances. 

 

“Yes!” John stated firmly, with a laugh, trying once again (this time carefully) to hail a cab. 

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters will be based on your prompts! Have a setting you want to see? write it in the comments! Canon characters only, unless related to Sherlock.


	6. The Statue Experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by sherlock_and_tea: Sherlock does an experiment to find the best position to hold in pee.

John walked out of the shower, towel wrapped around him, to the sight of his flatmate looking like a pretzel. 

 

“Are you doing yoga?” he asked. 

 

“No, I need the loo,” Sherlock explained, wriggling, not unlike a snake.

 

“How long have you held it in?” John asked strictly. 

 

“3 hours 27 minutes,” Sherlock replied.

 

“Go to the toilet!” Watson commanded.

 

“I can’t,” he responded.

  
“Why can’t you?!” John spat out, exasperatedly. 

  
“Experiment. The events of that morning made curious as to the best position for holding pee.” Sherlock explained.

 

John sighed in defeat. As far as stupid science experiments went, stretching bladder capacity wasn’t terribly dangerous to your health.

 

“Well, the tied up cobra position seems to have stopped working, you’re wriggling yourself out of it,” he noted. 

 

“It’s not applying enough pressure.” Sherlock agreed. The detective sat on his legs, thighs clenched, his hands folded together under him as well.

 

“You could try squeezing your crotch with both hands, instead,” John suggested.

 

“No. The point of this is to develop a method for when I’m in public. I can’t grab myself in public, John!” Sherlock replied, scoffing.

 

“You can’t sit like that either, at least not in the street. Why don’t you try a standing position as well?” John reminded him.

 

Sherlock stood up, instantly forced to cross his legs tightly. But, once he tried to move, as he would like to be able to walk like that in public, his bladder spasmed, forcing him to keep still.

 

“Well, that’s the end of this experiment. I can’t move,” Sherlock noted, glumly. 

 

“Alright, hang on,” John said, going into the kitchen. He found a large bucket under the sink.

 

“Since you won’t be able to run the loo without wetting yourself, a lot..use the bucket,” John suggested, reassuringly. Sherlock stared at him.

 

“Can’t go without you turning your back,” he requested. John promptly turned around. Sherlock quickly pulled down his pyjama bottoms and underpants, put the bucket under his junk and separated his legs, letting go. He pissed massively into the bucket, sighing with relief. Sherlock pulled his trousers back up, and went into the bathroom to empty it and wash his hands. Once he returned John advised him: “Think that’s enough experiments for one week ‘eh, Sherlock?” looking at him with his “Doctor” eyes. He just gave a simple accepting shrug and walked away to have breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And.. That's All, Folks! (sorry, sherlock_and_tea)The Final Chapter. Hope you enjoyed this series!


End file.
